


under this spell (but we're coming awake)

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: College AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben's always been very responsible. He keeps his bedroom neat and tidy, he’s never late for class or practice, and he always turns his assignments in on time. He goes to bed at a decent hour, and he rarely parties.</p><p>He’s certainly not the kind of person who purposely bombs a test in a pathetic attempt to get the attention of some guy.</p><p>(Except apparently, he is.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	under this spell (but we're coming awake)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fromiftowhen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromiftowhen/gifts).



> A treat for fromiftowhen. I hope you like it!

“The midterm will consist of five essay questions,” Professor Adams drones. “For those of you concerned about the test, Mr. Martin has graciously offered to run a study session at a time that’s convenient for all of you. Please see him after class.” 

Mr. Martin - Paulie, he told everyone to call him at the beginning of the term -- nods at the room full of mostly disinterested students, his dark-framed glasses slipping low on his nose. He smiles and pushes them back up with one finger, and not for the first time, Ben can’t seem to look away. 

Brandon clears his throat in the chair next to him, elbowing Ben in the side. “Your crush is showing,” he whispers, and Ben can hear the smile in his voice. He tears his gaze away from Paulie to scowl at Brandon, swiping his books from his desktop and shoving them into his bag. Brandon laughs and puts away his own books, standing next to Ben and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Ben’s watching Paulie again, the way he smiles sincerely at the few people who have taken him up on his offer for help. “Maybe you should throw the midterm,” Brandon jokes, chuckling softly. “That’d get his attention.”

Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes. His grades are very important to him, and if he doesn’t maintain a B average, he can’t play hockey. “You’re an idiot,” Ben says, and at that moment, Paulie’s eyes meet his and he smiles, giving Ben a little nod. Ben feels his cheeks go hot, and he pushes past Brandon to hurry out of the lecture hall. 

He has four midterms to study for, and the hot TA from his Lit class should be the furthest thing from his mind.

\--

The day of the midterm, Paulie comes into the lecture hall in a chunky grey sweater, a thick blue-and-green plaid scarf wrapped loosely around his neck and his bag slung over his shoulder, the strap crossing his chest. He settles into his seat at the front of the room and tugs his hat from his head, and the static from the wool makes his hair stand on end. He takes a long sip from his usual travel mug, and Ben shifts in his seat. 

He shrugs out of his jacket and flips through the pages of the midterm, scanning the questions quickly. He knows the material inside and out; it’s an easy A.

He glances up, briefly, and when Paulie looks up at the same time and smiles, lifting his mug in Ben’s general direction, Ben’s stomach flips.

He scribbles his name on the top of the paper and throws the test.

\--

“I’m disappointed, Mr. Smith,” Professor Adams says with a frown when he hands Ben’s midterm over. He’s glaring at Ben over his glasses, and Ben slinks lower in his chair, wishing he could disappear. “I expected better from you.”

There’s a dark red “D” scrawled in the corner of the paper, just above his name, and Ben’s shame is intensified by the way he catches Paulie looking at him, his brows drawn together in a frown. Ben knows that look -- he’s seen Paulie give it to more than one student this semester before offering to help them work through whatever struggle they were having with the material. 

The only thing Ben’s struggling with is his massive crush on Paul Martin, and he’s pretty sure that’s not something Paulie can help him with. He gathers his things and pretends to listen to Professor Adams ramble on about giving anyone who didn’t do well on the test another chance. 

“I strongly suggest some of you speak with Mr. Martin about some extra help before the retake,” he says, and Ben hears Brandon snort from the seat next to him. He hurries to shove his books -- and his crappy test -- into his bag before Brandon can stop and hurries from the classroom without a second look.

He’s halfway down the hall when he hears someone call his name. “Ben! Hey, Ben, wait up!”

Ben stops in his tracks and groans, turning over his shoulder to prepare himself for Brandon’s relentless teasing. Except it’s not Brandon’s face he’s met with.

It’s Paulie’s.

“Hey,” Paulie says, and Ben can’t remember a time when he’s ever been this close to him. Paulie’s taller than he is, and his broad shoulders are hidden smartly beneath a dark navy sweater that brings out the blue in his eyes. “I, uh. I don’t think we’ve ever really officially met. I’m Paulie,” he says, holding out a hand, and Ben stands there frozen for a long moment before he finally gets his act together and accepts the handshake.

“Ben,” he says dumbly, and Paulie’s smile is even better up close. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he brushes his hair back from where it’s fallen over his forehead. He smells like the hot chocolate he’s always drinking from his BC thermos. Ben wonders fleetingly if he tastes like it, too. 

“I know,” Paulie says, and Ben is slightly horrified to realize he’s still shaking Paulie’s hand like an idiot. He drops it quickly and hoists his bag back up over his shoulders. “So, uh,” Paulie starts. “You’ve been doing really well in class. I was pretty surprised when I saw your midterm.”

Ben feels the back of his neck go hot, and he ducks his head, embarrassed. He could talk about great works of literature that shaped the Western world for hours, to whoever would listen. He has a bookshelf full of worn, tattered books in his apartment, each one better than the next. He’s always been very responsible. He keeps his bedroom neat and tidy, he’s never late for class or practice, and he always turns his assignments in on time. He goes to bed at a decent hour, and he rarely parties.

He’s certainly not the kind of person who purposely bombs a test in a pathetic attempt to get the attention of some guy.

Paulie’s staring at him expectantly, and this is not how Ben would have chosen their first official conversation to go. “Uh,” Ben starts, cupping the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, I think I just. Uh.” _Blew it so you’d talk to me,_ he thinks. “Had a lot of stuff of my mind that day,” he finishes, and Paulie nods in understanding. 

“Yeah, midterm week is stressful,” he says gently, and Ben feels like such an asshole. “Listen, I know you’re on the hockey team, and you’ve gotta keep your grades up. I’d hate to see you miss any time because you had a bad day. If you’re interested, we could get together and go over the things you missed?”

Ben swallows around a lump of guilt. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, thanks, that would be really great.”

Paulie smiles brightly, and Ben’s stomach swoops traitorously. “Awesome,” Paulie says, and Ben shifts his weight, chewing on his lower lip. “It’s short notice, but I’m free later tonight if you’re around?”

Ben nods, and over Paulie’s shoulder, he sees Brandon approaching, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Sure, yeah, I can do that,” he says hurriedly. “Meet in the library around seven?”

“Perfect,” Paulie says, and Ben gives him another quick nod, calling out a goodbye over his shoulder as he ducks out the door. Paulie’s still smiling when his face disappears from Ben’s view.

He’s in so much trouble.

**

Ben’s standing in front of the locked library doors when he hears footsteps behind him. He turns over his shoulder to see Paulie taking the stairs two-by-two, his hands tucked inside the pockets of his coat. He has a hat pulled low on his head, and when he stops at Ben’s side, their elbows touch. “Hey,” he says in greeting, then leans in to peek through one of the small rectangular windows on the door. “Locked up tight, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ben says. “Forgot about the shortened hours this week.”

“Me too,” Paulie says. “Sorry about that. I should have known.”

Ben lifts one shoulder, grabbing for his bag where it’s started to slip. “No big deal,” he says, and if Paulie only knew, he thinks, he probably wouldn’t be so apologetic. 

“We could go back to my place?” Paulie offers, and it’s so innocent that Ben feels shitty for the way his cheeks heat up. “I’m not far from here, just a couple blocks.”

When Ben doesn’t answer right away, Paulie clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Unless, I mean. If you’re not comfortable -- “

“No,” Ben cuts him off. “No, that’s cool. Sorry, it’s just, uh. It’s been a long day.” _Or something like that_ Ben thinks. He’d spent most of the afternoon fending off annoying questions from Brandon and relentless chirping from Nick, and by the time he left the apartment to meet Paulie, they had him convinced that Paulie could see right through him. The way Paulie’s looking at him now, one eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth crooked up in amusement, Ben worries that they might be right.

“Do you wanna go, then?” Paulie asks, and Ben doesn’t miss the teasing lilt in his voice when he says, “or do you wanna stand out in the cold for a while longer? The rosy cheeks look good on you.”

Then he winks -- _winks_ \-- and Ben has to look down at his feet to keep himself from grinning at Paulie like a complete fool. Paulie chuckles, the butterflies in Ben’s stomach flap their wings a little harder, and Ben falls into step next to him, their arms brushing every few strides. 

“I’m just over there,” Paulie says when the come to a crosswalk, nodding at a modest apartment building across the street. They wait for the light to signal “walk” and jog from curb to curb, the biting wind bringing tears to Ben’s eyes.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he mutters, and Paulie laughs, nudging Ben’s side as he pulls his keys from his pocket.

“Coming from the guy who spends most of his time on the ice,” he says, and Ben smiles, sheepish. 

“Yeah, well, there’s no wind on the ice,” he says, and stomps the snow from his boots before following Paulie up two flights of stairs and halfway down the hallway. 

“So this is it,” Paulie says, tossing his keys on the small kitchen table with a light clang. He waves a hand, and Ben’s eyes follow. The lamp next to the sofa fills the room with soft light, and the smell of vanilla fills the apartment, courtesy of a candle flickering on the kitchen counter. There’s a multi-colored afghan slung over the back of the sofa and a cherrywood bookshelf against the wall, teeming with books. Any nervousness Ben was feeling about tonight fades with each passing moment; Paulie’s place feels like home. “Make yourself comfortable,” Paulie says. “You want a beer or anything?” 

“Thanks, that’d be great,” Ben says, and when he gets a look at Paulie, he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in his throat at the sight of his hair sticking up on one side, his glasses fogged up from the change in temperature. Paulie laughs with him and rolls his eyes, pulling his glasses off and wiping them on his shirt before tucking them into a case on the counter. 

Ben finds himself crossing the room as he unzips his coat, shrugging it off and draping it over the back of an armchair before crouching down in front of the bookcase, dragging his fingertips along the spines of the books.

Some are stiff and new and look like they’ve never been opened. Others are loose and well-loved, the telltale cracks on their spines putting a smile on Ben’s face. 

“I, uh. Might have a book problem,” Paulie says from behind him, and Ben looks up with a grin. 

“This is great,” Ben says sincerely. “I have one a lot like it.”

“Yeah?” Paulie asks, smiling as Ben gets to his feet. “What’s your favorite?”

“That’s an impossible question,” Ben says with a soft laugh and a shake of his head. “But I really dig _The Great Gatsby_. My copy’s pretty worn out.”

Paulie grins and reaches around Ben, and Ben allows his eyes to flutter closed for just a second as he takes a breath, the heat coming from Paulie drawing him in. He opens his eyes quickly when Paulie moves back. He’s holding a copy of the book, tattered at the corners, a small tear along the bottom edge. “Mine’s not much better,” he says, and then, deepening his voice, “He think she goes to see her sister in New York.”

Ben grins, and they finish the line in unison. “He’s so dumb he doesn’t know he’s alive.” He’s smiling so hard his face hurts, and the fact that Paulie’s smiling right back makes it that much better. 

“This one’s great too,” Ben finally says, clearing his throat and pulling _To Kill a Mockingbird_ from the shelf, leafing through the pages. Once he starts talking, he can’t seem to stop telling Paulie all the things he likes about it, comparing it to other books from the period as Paulie listens, amused.

“You know a lot about this stuff,” Paulie says, and Ben nods, following Paulie to the couch and sitting down next to him. 

“I’ve always loved to read, since I was a kid,” Ben says. “My mom bought me a book every time we went to the store, and I just -- kept going, I guess.”

Paulie has his arm draped along the back of the sofa, his long fingers dangerously close to Ben’s shoulder. “Did you grow up around here?” he asks, and then, instead of looking over the mid-term like was the plan, they fall into an easy conversation that doesn’t stop until Paulie’s phone buzzes on the kitchen table. 

“Sorry, let me just -- “ He stands, and Ben watches the way his body moves as he walks, all long, lean muscle under his henley. Paulie smiles at his phone, and Ben arches an eyebrow in question. “I, uh -- when I do study sessions, I set an alarm for an hour in? That way we can break and kind of review what we’ve gone over.”

Ben takes a quick swig of beer and sets the bottle on the coffee table. “Well. Let’s see. I know you’re from Minnesota. I know you played hockey when you were a kid, and I know you could have gone pro if you wanted to. I know I know you’re a really great TA and you’re gonna make a really great prof.”

Paulie’s watching him with a bemused expression, and he pushes off the table, walking towards Ben in smooth strides. “Yeah? Anything else?”

“I know you’ve got a really great smile,” Ben says slowly, and his stomach swoops when a flush spreads over the bridge of Paulie’s nose.. “And I don’t know if you realized this yet, but it’s possible that I blew the test on purpose.”

Paulie laughs warmly and joins Ben on the couch again, facing him this time, one leg tucked up under the other so his knee is pressed into the back of the couch. “You’re kidding,” he says, deadpan, and Ben ducks his head sheepishly. “You mean you _do_ know how to define the interracial relationships in _Hope Leslie_?”

“That was the easiest question on the test,” Ben admits, and Paulie shakes his head, his fingertips grazing the join of Ben’s neck and shoulder. He feels goosebumps rise on his skin under his shirt, chasing up and down his arms, and he swallows when his eyes lock with Paulie’s. 

“I’ve been noticing you all semester,” Paulie tells him. “You’re pretty clueless, huh?” He’s teasing, Ben can hear it in his voice, but even if he couldn’t, the way he’s looking at Ben right now would be a pretty clear indicator. 

“Well, I’ve been noticing you too, obviously,” Ben says, shifting a little closer. He feels brave, now, comfortable with Paulie in a way he hasn’t been with anyone in a long time. “So maybe you’re clueless too.” He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, closes his eyes when Paulie’s thumb touches his lower lip, his fingers cradling Ben’s chin and drawing him forward. 

Paulie has just the hint of a beard starting, and the scrape of it on his skin when Paulie kisses him sends a jolt of pleasure down Ben’s spine. He breathes in through his nose and lets himself touch, one hand resting on Paulie’s knee, his thumb drawing small circles over the denim while Paulie’s mouth moves against his. 

The hand that was on Ben’s jaw moves to his neck, the drag of Paulie’s thumb along Ben’s jaw enough to make him tilt his head to deepen the kiss. Paulie smiles against his mouth, and when Ben leans back, Paulie follows, never breaking the kiss. He slots one leg between Ben’s, and his thigh against Ben’s dick makes Ben gasp, arching his back just the slightest bit, chasing the pressure. 

“Yeah,” Paulie whispers through open-mouthed kisses to Ben’s neck. “We’ll get there.”

Ben’s in no rush, not when Paulie’s teeth are pulling at his earlobe, when Paulie’s hips are snug against his own, rocking forward every few seconds. 

They kiss for what feels like hours but must only be long minutes, Ben’s fingers tangled in Paulie’s hair and Paulie’s hand cradling Ben’s neck, and when Paulie finally pulls back, Ben’s lips are tingling. Paulie chuckles softly and presses his face into Ben’s neck, his warm breath ghosting over Ben’s skin. He’s smiling, Ben can feel it, and it makes his heart race with excitement. Paulie _likes_ him. 

Ben’s fingertips are tucked just beneath the waistband of Paulie’s jeans, brushing lightly over the dip of his lower back, and Paulie rolls his hips, sucking in a breath when his dick rubs against Ben’s. Ben’s mouth drops open and he digs his fingers into Paulie’s back, holding him close. “Jesus,” he says, and if he wasn’t so turned on, he’d be embarrassed at the breathy way it comes out. “This wasn’t what I was expecting when you offered to help me study.”

Paulie laughs again, then sits up a little. His eyes are dancing when they meet Ben’s. “Should I apologize?”

“Don’t you dare,” Ben says, and tilts his head up for another kiss. “I really wanna get you out of this,” he says, plucking at the front of Paulie’s shirt. 

“Is that so?” Paulie teases, arching an eyebrow, and Ben nods as his hand circles Paulie’s bicep. It’s warm and firm under his palm, and he really wants to get Paulie’s arms above his head and sink his teeth into the muscle. “Tell you what,” he says. Ben’s abs twitch reflexively when Paulie gets a hand up under his shirt. His fingertips circle Ben’s navel before moving higher, and when Paulie rubs his thumb over Ben’s nipple, Ben’s eyes fall closed. “You get an ‘A’ on the retake, and I’ll let you lay me out and do whatever you want.”

The thought alone makes Ben’s cock throb in his jeans, and he whimpers when Paulie’s hand disappears from under his shirt. “Is this how you get everyone to pass the class?” he asks, and Paulie tickles his side playfully.

“Nah,” he says, and kisses Ben’s nose. “Only the cute ones.”

**

The day of the retake, Paulie comes into the lecture hall in an oversized BC hoodie, his hat tugged low over his ears and his bag slung over his shoulder, the strap crossing his chest. He settles into his seat at the front of the room and tugs his hat from his head, and the static from the wool makes his hair stand on end. He takes a long sip from his usual travel mug, and Ben shifts in his seat. 

He shrugs out of his jacket and flips through the pages of the retake, scanning the questions quickly. He knows the material inside and out; it’s an easy A.

He glances up at once, quickly, and when Paulie looks up at the same time and smiles, lifts his mug in Ben’s general direction, Ben’s stomach flips.

He grins at Paulie and throws him a wink, scribbles his name on the paper, and aces the test.


End file.
